Not much deceleration needs to happen before the whirlwind sucks your car in like a Dyson vacuum suffering from gigantism might. All you can do is embrace Dakota with all your strength and wait for furious physics to work its violent vortex mojo.
A minute of time inside the tornado passes, then two…
You bring yourself to open your eyes and then stare into the eyes of the infant. His face looks nonplus, but then you decide it’s more like the baby is staring up at something sublime in your eyes – a secret being unleashed in the core of this storm.
Then, like Dorothy’s house landing rather softly and abruptly, you both land in the snow, mattressed against the fall.
“Where are we?,” you direct the question at Dakota as if he might answer. It’s nighttime and it’s very cold, and there also looks to be a church building with lights on inside…
Go to page 145.
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